


Can't Run

by jer832



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fantasizing, POV Alternating, POV Rose, POV The Doctor (Doctor Who), Sexual Content, Sexual Fantasy, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 10:49:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jer832/pseuds/jer832
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're a real Boy Scout, eh Doctor?"<br/>"Not a boy, Rose Tyler," he insisted.<br/>"Jus' meant, <em>be prepared</em>  'n  all."<br/>The Doctor's eyes burned through Rose, and his face came close, and for a moment Rose could barely breathe. "Always," he whispered softly against her ear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Run

**Author's Note:**

> Written for lillibetm3's ['Plus One' Ficathon](http://lillibetm3.livejournal.com/222247.html). The picture prompt appears in endnotes.  
> 
> Dedicated to BHB. What really happened on Lake Huron?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Can't Run**

  
  
The Doctor turned off the trail and loped over the icy gravel path to the building that had the toilets. He opened the door, stepped inside, and was assaulted by a string of impressively imaginative Venusian oaths as Rose Tyler sprang off a pit toilet and whirled around to face away from him. He stared, completely fascinated. When Rose Tyler blushed, she blushed everywhere—and  _Rassilon_ , he could see that it was  _everywhere—_ all the way down her body, from her open down vest and short sleeve t-shirt to the Vibram heels peeking out from the mound of denim around her ankles; and it wasn't simply a blossoming flush but an immediate, total, fantastic burst of heat.  
  
That probably was not something he should remark on, a part of his mind suggested vaguely even as another part came up with a different scenario in which he could make Rose's body respond with a fantastic burst of heat.  
  
"Dammit, Doctor! That's the third time today either you or Jack has walked in on me! Get out and CLOSE THE DOOR!"  
  
Nor should he feel so disappointed at how quickly Rose was able to yank up her denims (wait—was that thin band of red lace peaking out a thong?) and cover up the firm, naked, delightfully curved buttocks that had to be the embodiment of bum perfection.  
  
"Why didn't you just lock the door, Rose?"  
  
"I  _would_  have if the buildin' had a lock," Rose threw back over her shoulder.  
  
"Oh," the Doctor said.  
  
"Oh," Rose echoed sarcastically.  
  
"Looks like there had been one once, but not recently," he noted.  He scratched his head thoughtfully.  "The closest people are in a base camp three ridges east; it's just us and the animals up here, but I guess I can put a lock on the door if you really think it's necessary."  He grinned helpfully.  
  
Rose rolled her eyes.  Situation in hand? Problem solved? Hardly. The Doctor had neglected, or more likely forgotten, to get out and close the door. Caught naked in front of him (technically, it was back to him, but still…) she felt a confusing mixture of embarrassment, ire, mirth, and heat but immediately decided thunder and intimidation might be the most efficacious way to go now if she hoped ever to get any privacy from those two in the future.  She ordered the Doctor to turn around so that she could put herself properly together.  When she let him turn back, she stood tall and straight, set her arms akimbo, raised her chin, looked him straight in the eyes, and gave him the signature Tyler glare.  She made sure it was strong enough so he'd pass the message on to Jack.  
  
"You said it was goin' to be us enjoyin' the natural beauty of the Canadian Rockies in Summer. You said it'd be a vacation from the usual type of vacation you get us into.  You said it'd be four days of no danger, no pressure, no runnin' for our lives, no trouble, no strugglin' to survive in an inhospitable alien environment."  
  
"A nice clean, large toilet facility is not an inhospitable alien environment, Rose."  
  
"No? Two stinky pits in need of emptyin', no runnin' water or soap or towels, no light except whatever makes it through those pathetic window holes at the top.  And— " she looked at the Doctor pointedly, "—no lockin' doors."  At least he had the grace to look sheepish.  
  
Rose pulled an antibacterial wipe from the pack in her pocket and cleaned her hands. Standing only as close to the hole as she had to, she balled up the sheet and chucked it into the smelly latrine with a scrunched-up nose that the Doctor thought was cute enough to nibble, but again did not remark on.  For the sake of peace across the Canadian wilderness, the planet, the galaxy, and especially the TARDIS, he turned and quietly left, closing the door securely behind him.

  
~~

  
  
The latrine building was Spartan but more than adequate; and as far as outhouses went, the structure was just about immaculate, as the Doctor had pointed out to Rose earlier. This attestation to man's humanity to man (especially those whose spirit roved the wilderness but whose legs were bone-weary of squatting) had been left nicely supplied for the hearty souls (or crazy fools) who came during the camping off-seasons, the Bighorn rutting season, the snowed-in season, the rainy season, the bear-coming-down-to-forage early Spring season.  
  
The toilets were two yellowed but clean plastic toilet seats set onto two holes in a boxy white base along one wall. They sat (as did those who made use of them) about two and a half feet off the floor and three feet apart. There was no modesty partition between, let alone privacy enclosure. As Rose had pointed out earlier, there was a definite… stink…  coming from the two pits below, despite the vent pipes and the strips of air freshener-slash-glue fly trap hanging off several rafters. Obviously the latrines hadn't been vacuumed out at the end of the previous season.  
  
The facility had running water.  High up in the mountains as they were, the water always ran cold into the large, rust-stained, trough-like sink… ran icy, ran frigid, ran glacial. But it wasn't running at this time; possibly the source was frozen or its feeder wasn't flowing yet, possibly the pipe that carried the water to the building was broken. Nailed to the wood wall above the faucet were two plastic containers filled with yellow, pungent soap that was frozen solid. There were no towels, perhaps by attrition or frugality, but there was a large supply of toilet paper intended to last into the Spring restocking; the rolls were stacked on pine-plank shelving bolted to the wall above the floor.  
  
The building's single entrance was at the far end of the wall that abutted the latrine; a person sitting on the toilet had a clear view of whoever or whatever entered—and vice versa, as Rose and the Doctor had already discovered.  The doorway was just shy of customary height, and both he and Jack had to stoop as they walked through. Two wreaths of plaited red and green hemp with cowbells hung on the wall nearby.  The only touch of real colour, they provided a Christmasy accent; but they were there to chase away bears.   
  
The Doctor folded his leather jacket neatly and placed it atop a small boulder near the door.  His sonic screwdriver and TARDIS key were safe in the Marmot four-season tent they had set up; but it wouldn't do to lose some other irreplaceable object into the pit (he was never quite sure what all he had stuffed in his pockets); or the Swiss army knife, small axe, shovel, or other assorted gear he'd brought along on their wilderness adventure; or even the longbow he still had in an outside pocket. He patted the pocket and chuckled; maybe Harkness had finally learned not to wager with him.  
  
Without his jacket, the Doctor could feel Winter's stubborn grip on the mountain air.  He wondered if Rose was beginning to suspect that their timing was a bit off.  If she asked, he'd pretend he'd miscalculated, though Jack knew the truth. Late Spring; early Summer… the difference was measurable in ten more minutes of daylight, one less snowstorm to dig yourself out of, the first tourist bus. The valleys were coming gorgeously abloom; the crowds of sightseers with their loud, noxious autos and their loud, obnoxious kids were still back home; the ORV warriors were still dropping their beer cans in the lower, warmer, ranges; and a small lie was better for the health of their friendship.  
  
The odour of the decomposing waste was more disagreeable to the Time Lord's sense of smell than to a human's (though he was sure Rose would disagree), and he took a minute to search out the least… stinky… place to stand to relieve himself. If he kept his back to the big screened-up opening between two of the rafters, he'd be upwind of the smell. True, he'd also be about a foot and a half beyond the side edge of the toilet seat instead of right above the hole; but he'd still have a clear, easy shot.  (Not a slam-dunk; what did Michael call it… a 3-pointer?) With a scarily human  _bloke-after-four-beers_  grin that would no doubt have made the High Council cringe, the Doctor moved into position just past the three-point arc, in the draftiest part of the wing, took himself out, angled his hips to avoid a rim shot, and took aim.  The door slammed open and Rose rushed inside.  
  
"Rose, is this you getting back at me?" he complained, moving his hand to cover his penis.  
  
No," she choked, slamming the door shut and throwing her weight against it, "it's me gettin' away from the grizzly bear."  
  
Rose contorted her body and tried to stretch a leg to the nearby boulder without letting up on her pressure against the door. Her boot grazed the Doctor's jacket, and it slid onto the floor with a muffled heavy thud.  The Doctor gave a horrified shout and ran to rescue his jacket from the latrine floor.  
  
"Y'know, Doctor," Rose was still able to roll her eyes as she simultaneously fought the door, coaxed the rock, and tried to get her breath back, "th' rock wasn't dragged in here jus' so you could have a personal valet stand."  
  
But it was as if the Doctor had tuned everything else out the moment he'd seen his cherished black leather jacket defiled by a Vibram Teton outsole. He picked up the jacket, spit on his thumb, and began to rub gently at the grimy tread marks that Rose's boot had left in the soft supple leather.  
  
Rose didn't have time to indulge the crazy alien. "Get over here  _now_ , Doctor," she gasped. "There's a bear outside! Doctor—a bear!  ...  a—"  
  
"Rose, you really have to be more careful! It's a good thing the floor's cleaner than your boot."  
  
"Doctor—I'm tellin' ya, it's a… it's… it's— _!_ "  
  
Moving into a band of sunlight coming through the hole in the roof, the Doctor shook out his jacket, held it up for a clear view, and checked his handiwork… failing to realize that in moving to give himself a clear view, he had also given Rose a clear view.  
  
"Oh  _gawd_ … _!_  "  
  
It might have been Rose's choked hysteria that broke through to the Doctor; it might have been the grizzly's long cry of frustration and thundering blow to the door.  The Doctor spun to face his companion. "A  _bear_ , Rose?"  
  
"A bare Doctor," she corrected in a quiet daze.  Her gaze wavered between the Doctor's eyes and his v-neck but dared no lower as she dug through the remnants of her control for her mind. "Doctor... bare..."  
  
There was another panicky, semi-coherent attempt or two at speech on Rose's part; then a moment of bemusement on the Doctor's part when he noticed the way Rose's face and throat burned as if her body were about to ignite, just like earlier; then his dawning blush of realization and a hurried movement of the jacket down; and then the grizzly drove eight hundred pounds of muscle and end-of-hibernation orneriness at the solid oak door.  Rose's body jolted, and she dug in with her legs and her Vibram soles and held on, yelling frantically: "Doctor!!  Bear-bear-bear-bear!!  Bear-bear-bear-bear!!" Dropping his jacket, the Doctor threw the full mass of his body against the door next to Rose's.  
  
The grizzly rammed the door again.  As they pushed back the grizzly's assault, the Doctor turned a manic grin on Rose, his fingers wrapping around hers happily. "S'pose you still want a lock on this door," he whinged.  
  
"S'pose you still think it's not necessary," Rose shot back.  The Doctor's grin grew and the sparkle in his eyes answered her.  Her breath caught and her heart sped up. They grinned at each other like two maniacs, and Rose loved the Doctor hopelessly for his naked exuberance and the laugh lines dancing at his eyes.  
  
The fact of a huge grizzly trying to get inside should have crowded all other thoughts out of Rose's head. But as they pressed up against the door and against each other, the Doctor's hand caressing hers, his eyes caressing hers, his grin quantifying her universe, somehow  _bear-bear-bear-bear_ became  _bare-bare-bare-bare._ Unable to stop herself, Rose glanced down, her eyes refusing to deny themselves the marvel that lay, literally, before them.  
  
The Doctor looked human.  
  
The Doctor looked gorgeous.  
  
The Doctor looked perfect.  Yes—perfect size, perfect shape, perfect fit, perfect to slide down on and wrap herself tightly around. She'd have to stretch only just a bit to lick that wondrous triangle of chest.  Then his throat.  Maybe nip his chin and finally taste him… Oh. Taste him.  Rose forced herself to look away, began to count the number of cowbells on the wall. She felt the Doctor's fingers stroking hers again; felt his breath rapid but softly compelling over the side of her face. Her head dropped back against the door.  She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip.  
  
"How fantastic is this, Rose Tyler?" the Doctor chuckled against Rose's ear.  
  
Electricity shot through Rose, sparking a flash fire of desire.  She felt herself starting to grow wet.  She fought it desperately. The pamphlet at the checkpoint strongly hinted at potentially dangerous consequences for those who let  _it_  happen in bear country. (The Doctor had warned a grinning, salaciously commenting Harkness there'd be definite and lethal consequences for anyone trying it in Jackie Tyler country) The door shook again.  The Doctor's hand wrapped around Rose's; their fingers entwined.  She looked up at him; he caught her in his endless eyes and grinned. Rose turned her head away and whimpered.  
  
As the pounding and thudding and bellowing from the other side of the door began to ease off, the Doctor's embarrassment at the unintentional display of his naked penis ratcheted up. He twisted away from Rose as soon as it was safe. He put himself away, zipped himself, and jacketed himself, fighting the urge to button the bloody thing from collar to bottom edging. Knowing he was blushing almost as much as Rose had been, he turned back to make a joke about the duty of the last Time Lord to keep his companion safe regardless of possible exposure to injury, embarrassment, or cold mountain air.  Rose wasn't blushing.  She was looking at him with an expression he had never seen on her before—something unreadable, although it was fighting hard to escape from the burning depths of Rose's dark  _dark_  eyes. There was something just as inscrutable in the set of her mouth.  The Doctor's own mouth went dry.  He felt a jolt from a part of him he could normally keep in check around Rose and fought back a moan.  
  
Rose's misbehaving eyes roamed down the Time Lord's lean torso, stopping where she now knew the jacket covered something fantastic. As if she had x-ray vision, as if she could see through the leather and denim, Rose pictured it clearly: the long, thick, tapered, firm, full, beautiful, physiologically compatible—  
  
"Bare," she whispered hoarsely.  And just so there'd be no confusion, at least on the Doctor's part, Rose cleared her throat and clarified: "Grizzly bear, yeah?" The Doctor nodded vacantly. She inclined her head toward the boulder next to the door and smiled up at him. "Boulder."  
  
"Ah." The Doctor wrestled the big rock against the door. "There ya go, Rose Tyler; even the assembled hordes of Genghis Kahn couldn't get through the door now."  
  
"Don't care about anything now but grizzlies," Rose lied.  
  
As if on cue, the door took another huge hit and shook. With a grin to each other, the Doctor and Rose sat back on the boulder and relaxed. ~~~~  
  
Rose needed to continue on a safe topic, like the chances of one or both of them getting eaten… Bugger!  She meant becoming a grizzly's snack.  "Yah don't have a pack of bacon stashed in one of your pockets or somethin'?"  
  
"Nah; maybe some jelly-babies, but they'd be carbonized by now."  
  
"Bananas?"  
  
No bananas, no food of any kind.  The Doctor double-checked his pockets to make sure there was nothing to arouse the bear's superior olfactory sense. Rose made a cheeky comment about impressive noses and olfactory senses.  When he didn’t roll his eyes, Rose had a sudden panic that the Doctor had sensed her lust. But he was grinning that wonderful grin at her—that pulse-quickening grin he always gave her when he found himself caught in a state of wonder, or they were face to face with something exciting and more than likely extremely dangerous and he didn't have a clue what he was gonna do next but he knew it'd be fantastic.  
  
The Doctor was still holding her hand.  He said  _fantastic_  again… so things had to be fine, no different than usual.  So she, like usual: "'No danger', you said, Doctor, 'no pressure'."  
  
"There hasn't been any running."  
  
"Yet." Rose raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Grouchy, hungry grizzly at the door, Rose; can't run. But I've got the situation well in hand."  
  
The bear's heavy body slammed against the door again.  The solid wood held but the noise was something awful.  
  
Rose nodded.  "Sure, Doctor; like Jack the morning after you pulled him out of the  _Pussy Got Your Tongue_  Lounge."  She sighed. Speaking of something else well in-hand…"Look, Doctor, I'm… about before, I didn't mean… I wasn't… I couldn't… I wasn't tryin' to get even for earlier. D'you… I mean… I..I was afraid you'd… that I'd… Are we ok—?"  
  
The Doctor blushed again but shrugged. "Was an accident; forget it. 'Sides, like I said, can't run." As if to underscore the Doctor's point, there was another grizzly body-slam against the the door.  
  
After a bit, the Doctor helped Rose swing up to one of the wide sturdy beams that obviously had been left exposed beneath the peaked roof for more than mere rustic charm.  Then he leapt, caught the beam, and hoisted himself up next to her.  
  
"We're fine," the Doctor said, taking Rose's hand and wrapping their fingers together.  "The door is sturdy, and she'll soon realize we don't have anything to waste her time and energy on.  But this is nicer."  He slid them along the beam until they could see out one of the windows.  
  
"You humans live amongst so much beauty, Rose!  Like these ancient mountain ranges.  They're magnificent in their  _colossalness_  alone."  
  
"Is that a word?"  
  
"Look out at that horizon, Rose Tyler, and tell me it's not.  Above their proud mantle of snow… so much snow, Rose, eons and eons of snow… those grizzled old mountains are stark and bald-shouldered and naked at their highest.  Below the tree line, the conifer forests are so dense they make the lower mountainsides as black as a starless night. The glaciers look like small dirty white patches, but when the sunlight hits them full-on, they'll sparkle like white fire.  Some of those glaciers have existed so long even Time loses track of their age, and they'll last as long as the Earth survives. And the waterfalls, Rose!  Some are still frozen as they dropped, gigantic ice sculptures. Some are just beginning to come to life again, and their meltwater is feeding the forests and wildlife, turning the meadows into a lush carpet of fragrant colour that's unsurpassed anywhere. Some have so much power running through them, such raw unrestrainable natural force, that nothing, _nothing_ , can make them freeze. Millimeter by millimeter, century by century, even the granite won't resist them. Come back here in a couple of millennia and they'll be different."  He grinned at her. "'Course you won't be able to see it just looking at them like this. The Rockies are alive, Rose, full of moods and fits and tempers and change and growth, and so much beauty. It's colossal, Rose Tyler, it's… colossally fantastic!"  
  
He pointed to a hanging valley set among lower peaks, a sheer drop off its edge to other slopes and another hanging valley. "See those huge patches of purple? Those are acres and acres of wildflowers. They've just come into bloom." He squeezed Rose's hand.  "Oh, Rose, isn't it gorgeous!"  
  
But how much more gorgeous with Rose sitting there amongst the wildflowers!  
  
Or lying in them.  
  
Naked.  Spread on the bed of soft, fragrant purple.  
  
"Over there—" the Doctor turned Rose and had her sight along his arm  "—those white specks are Bighorn sheep.  You can't see it from here, but that way—" he pointed "—is where we'll be hiking tomorrow. Yeah, I'm gonna take you on a glacier, Rose Tyler, then I'll take you in the ice fields on the highway to Jasper."  
  
Rose wondered what it'd take to get him to take her in this really pretty darn clean outhouse.  
  
"Rose Tyler, I got ideas for our last day, but I might wear you out—"  
  
He could take Rose in an alpine meadow, lay her down in the beds of purple and rose and yellow and white wildflowers, or in a stand of Lodgepole pine so tall she couldn't see their tops. What he really wanted was to shag her rotten against the nearest support beam, wrap himself in her naked body and hold her as she slept, wake her with his lips and tongue everywhere, and shag her through a magnificent mountain sunrise.  
  
An overcast dawn would be ok too.  
  
"—but getting back to today, Rose, we've got plenty of sunlight coming in through these windows, the air is fresh and clean, there's a nice pine-scented breeze. And we're together." He squeezed Rose's hand again. "This isn’t such a bad way to pass the time, eh? Picture it as our own personal mountain hideaway."  
  
As the Doctor showed Rose one marvel of Nature after another, his thumb carelessly stroked the back of her hand, and Rose thought about how truly…  _fantastic_ … it would feel to have the Doctor's long, cool fingers moving like that all over her body. She imagined her fingers wrapped around his beautiful penis, the feel of him growing hard and hot in her hand.  She began to imagine all the ways the Doctor and she could pass the time in their own personal mountain hideaway.  Every now and again they heard noises that were beginning to sound more like the come-hither calls of a horny moose cow than the moans of a cranky grizzly mum on her first day away from the kids in months, and then the thud of a heavy body that made the sturdy door tremble. That it was simply business as usual for the Doctor and her—danger and excitement waiting for them to open a door and walk out—lent the steamy scenarios of Rose's daydreams a weirdly palpable reality that kept her body as volatile as a box full of strike-anywhere matches.  
  
While they waited for the grizzly to get bored and leave, the Doctor told Rose humorous stories of earlier adventures.  One was about a chess match with his pet dog that had sent the Time Lady he travelled with into a fit of uncontrollable laughter on top of the console and the TARDIS into an unplanned, hard landing on Jitoran 3, causing a planet-wide alien box invasion panic.  
  
"And you think I'm a trouble-magnet?" Rose giggled.  
  
"Oi, Romana had nothing on you, Rose Tyler. The Jitorans had one worldwide religion, some very strange beliefs, and a clever and powerful High Priest who claimed he was infallible.   Two of the planet's satellites, the  _Wandering Eyes of God_ —"  
  
"You're making this up."  
  
"Nah," the Doctor said, dragging a fingernail along the inner length of Rose's arm, watching it twitch each time he touched the inside of her elbow. "The inhabitants thought the two moons were holy. Totally unlike Jitoran's others moons and identical to each other, they were—to the naked Jitoran eye at least. They appeared smooth and flawless, and gleamed a pure, pristine white.  Encircling each moon was an identical ring of ice crystals, debris, and dust the exact colour of the Jitorans' blood.  And when the  _Eyes_  traversed the sky at its zenith, the stars dimmed in their glow."  
  
"Sounds beautiful."  
  
"Was."  
  
"Take me there?"  
  
The Doctor stared down at Rose a moment. A side of his mouth quivered, but he kept his eyes shuttered. "Only if you go down on the right co-ordinates."  
  
"Doctor, Romana didn't get those co-ordinates all on her own! Like you said, she had a lot of help from an earlier you and your dog.  What's  _this_  you gonna do to help  _me_  go down right?"  
  
Rose teased her tongue out the left side of her mouth and grinned up at the Doctor expectantly.  
  
Images that earlier in the day had taken up permanent residence in the Doctor's subconscious elbowed their way front and center:  Rose standing with her back to him, naked from vest to boots; the twin globes of her bum, pale and perfect; a teasing, tormenting little bit of red lace; Rose's hands sliding up her naked thighs to her hips, her skin radiating heat as if she were burning from the inside out… because of him. He knew he should turn away, quickly. "Make you laugh," he said looking dead at her.  Into her.  His fingers circled over the corner of her shoulder.  
  
"Go on," Rose whispered.  
  
The Doctor blinked.

Rose made an inarticulate sound. 

The grizzly kept her thoughts to herself.

"So the moons were identical," the Doctor went on. "Except for their orbits. Most of the time they moved in parallel, like well-behaving eyes should do, but sometimes one speeded up and passed the other by—the  _Eyes_   _of God_  crossed."  
  
Rose stared at the Doctor; then she laughed and slapped his shoulder.  
  
"Oi, Rose Tyler! You wanna hear or not?" He wrapped his arms around Rose's body, pinning those dangerous Tyler hands against him, then continued:  "But just before and after they crossed, their rings appeared to touch. The High Priest told the people it was god putting on his spectacles and looking down at them closely, studying them, determining who were being good, who were sinning, and who should be punished. And god gave the High Priest his knowledge."  
  
"I smell a totalitarian government."  
  
"You smell good, Rose Tyler."  The Doctor burrowed his nose into the crook of Rose's neck and shoulder and sniffed noisily. As she giggled and squirmed against him, he let his lips  guiltily sneak over Rose's warm musky skin and savoured the taste of her.  "Yup. Well, it so happened that the spectacles of the  _Wandering Eyes of G_ od looked rather like the sunglasses Romana had worn out of the TARDIS for some reason."  
  
"Uh-oh."  
  
"Half the locals were convinced Romana was the  _Wandering Goddess_.  The other half thought it was a sacrilege to think their god was a woman." He grinned. "Worse, a few unfortunate souls of that second lot had the misfortune to say it to Romana's face." The Doctor chuckled with a good… a very good… memory.  "The government didn't know if they should give her special Adorations or burn her at the stake for heresy.  A splinter group was convinced she was leader of the  _Blue Box Alien Invasion."_  
  
"What happened?"  
  
The Doctor gave Rose a wide-eyed toothy grin. "Don't know. Romana, k-9, and I legged it back to the TARDIS before the vote came in."  
  
Rose chortled so hard her bum slipped off the beam. She grabbed the Doctor. With a hearty laugh, he dragged her back.  They laughed for no particular reason and held each other for a very good reason neither intended to share with the other, until another thud against the door reminded the Doctor and Rose Tyler why they were cuddling on a ceiling beam in an outhouse in the first place.  
  
Rose unzipped her vest and snuggled into the Doctor's side. "It's getting chilly."  
  
Slotting her against his side, her head on his shoulder, the Doctor wrapped his jacket around them.  "Better?" he asked, tightening his arm around Rose.  
  
"Mmmm.  Tell me another story about Leela and the Janus thorns."  
  
"Hang on a moment."  The Doctor got to his knees, rummaged around in one of his jacket pockets, retrieved a flashlight, Coleman lantern, propane can, and matches.  He handed Rose the flashlight, assembled and set the lantern aside for later, and moved back to wrap his arms and jacket around Rose.  
  
Rose pushed back against the Doctor's chest and gave him stern look. "Where's the stove?"  
  
"Where'dya think: other pocket.  I'll make us some tea later."  
  
"You're serious, yeah?" she asked hopefully.  
  
"I'm always serious when—" When Rose was in his arms, her breath igniting his naked skin, the soft pressure of her hands making his hearts forget their meter; when his legs were wrapped over hers and it would take no effort, no effort at all, to wrap his thighs around hers and pull her against him, and beg her to fix this ache in his hearts and in his body.  "—when tea is involved."  
  
"You're a real Boy Scout, eh Doctor?"  
  
"Not a boy, Rose Tyler," he insisted.  
  
"Jus' meant,  _be prepared_  'n all."  
  
The Doctor's eyes burned through Rose, and his face came close, and for a moment Rose could barely breathe. "Always," he whispered softly against her ear, just as if he knew where her mind had gone, about other… activities, other things someone and someone else might want to be prepared about.  Then he grinned.  "So, Leela, hmm? Well, Leela's the only one I know who wore less clothes than you on our adventures and got away with it, and that's saying something."  
  
"Oi! If you've got a problem take it up with the TARDIS; I wear what she gives me. Sometimes she gives me next to nothing."  
  
Did the TARDIS give Rose that thong? If his timeship had provided his companion with possibly insufficient gear for rugged wilderness trekking  (unlike her little tank top, which  _clearly_  was designed for layering), shouldn't he double-check the gear's survival value?  Slide off Rose's denims, then ease the thong down her lusciously rounded hips, letting his thumbnails scrape lightly over her silken skin.  Or his teeth.  
  
Would the insides of her knees and thighs twitch for him the way her elbows did?  
  
Something inside the Doctor clamped down hard and his penis jolted. In a panic, he desperately searched for his flagging control. Instead, he found a detailed but incomplete list of things he wanted to do to Rose Tyler.  He had eleven ways to shag her up there beneath the roof and three against the firm solid clean walls without being redundant. (He'd bring her back another time to do it against the door)  In a field full of purple and blue wildflowers, while behind them a waterfall dropped down the mountain's sheer face into a glacial lake. Under a fragrant canopy of virgin pine, on a bed of soft brown needles.  He wanted Rose naked in his arms, trembling against him—trembling from the touch of his fingers, his breath, his mouth—her body on fire from wet kisses… her welcoming thighs and tight wet caress. She'd answer his every demanding thrust with her own, taking him as much as he was taking her.  
  
The Doctor's hearts beat wildly; just in time he bit his lips against a long needful moan.  He turned his head away, ramming his eyelids closed, terrified Rose would see passion-blown eyes.  
  
The images of Rose's body, pliable and willing in his hands, against him, around him, wouldn't stop, or maybe the Doctor just wouldn't let them go.  He stopped short of imagining Rose telling him she loved him. He heard himself say the words to her, though, and it unsettled him so, that he almost cried. He covered with another story, this one hilariously absurd, and he had Rose laughing in seconds.  
  
When they finally had to give up on the idea of the bear leaving anytime soon, the Doctor promised to build a fire in the sink before it got dark.  He began to envision Rose lying radiant and willing and totally naked on his jacket in the ruddy gold nimbus of firelight. He'd remind her that the temperature could fall below freezing, and Rose would peek her devil tongue out of one of those hearts-stopping smiles and tell him she would show him how to conserve body heat, opening welcoming arms to him.  He'd say his body temperature was lower than hers already, and she'd tell him she could take care of that…  
  
The Doctor's picture was transitioning nicely from art house film to dvd movie with extras when Rose fidgeted against him.  He grabbed her hips a bit rougher than he should have and put space between them to keep his companion from feeling how hard he'd grown. "Rose! Ceiling beam here; floor is eight feet down."   
  
"My bum is asleep, Doctor!  And the beam hurts. There are gonna be marks all over my body."  
  
As she massaged said body part, Rose wondered if the Doctor was the type of lover who needed to leave a mark of possession.   Likely not, him bein' a superior Time Lord 'n all.  Sad.  Of course, bein' a superior Time Lord and the last of his people, the Doctor might not be the type to be a lover, even if he had been once; or maybe not with a human who'd dropped out of school and didn't have her A levels—and  _sad_ wasn't the word for Rose's feelings about that possibility. But when the Doctor held her like he'd been, Rose thought… she hoped… she imagined that he was saying she was his with tenderly possessive hands and entwined fingers. The Doctor's fingers, his long, elegant, wonderful fingers, were welcome to say it over her lips, scrabblin' into her hair, down her body just everywhere, between her thighs… scrapin' over her clit and slidin' easily inside, a perfect fit. She knew he'd be a perfect fit.  The Doctor could wrap those long beautiful fingers around her thighs and pull her legs around his hips, and everything would fit because they were made for each other.  
  
She pictured his long lanky body, the wiry muscles movin' gracefully beneath pale, fire-warmed skin, her hands on his tight, perfect bum, holdin' him against her, his firm member slidin' over heated, perspiration-slicked skin, between damp, oversensitive folds, pushin' into her … and she'd better stop thinking about him that way 'cos she was wet and it had just come to her that a  _facin'-an-imminent and extreme-danger-without-a-clue-what-to-do-next_  grin could also fit the situation where the Doctor has an idea that his companion's been thinkin' about nothin' but shaggin' him rotten since he threw himself against the door next to her an' grinned an' squeezed her hand.  
  
But what if he was wantin' it like she did and scared and excited and full of wonder for what could happen next?  
  
She could remind the Doctor they'd conserve body heat better if they took off their clothes and cuddled, and see how he reacted. Would their lovin' be gentle the first time, or would the Doctor be the oncomin' storm? Would she have to hold on to somethin' to keep them from fallin' off the beam, or trust him not to let them fall?  Then she would be free to hold him… her fingertips and nails pressin' into him, every time he ground into her.  Would she leave scratch marks on his gorgeous bum?  Blimey, there was a thought!  A wonderful, delightful, hot (actually  _very hot)_  thought.  Her mark on the Doctor's bum.  And her teeth markin' his neck, his shoulder, his chest. Then his hip, the inside of his thigh…"  
  
"Got a great idea, Rose."  
  
The Doctor sat up and started to take his clothes off, startin' with his jacket, and she almost fell off the beam again. "Where else… what?"  
  
"C'mon, now lie down on the jacket."  
  
"But Doctor—"  
  
"No 'but Doctor'; it won't do to have marks on you, Rose Tyler, and there'd be no end of the comments we'd hear from Jack."  
  
"Won't the stove and teapot make marks?"  
  
"Nah, that pocket's back with the TARDIS; no marks."  
  
"Promise?"  Stupid… stupid! The Doctor never broke a promise to her. She  _wanted_ to be marked by the Doctor.  
  
The Doctor couldn't promise; he wanted to make his own mark on Rose—on her smooth, pale throat, or in the hollows above her clavicles where it would be unhidden by her tank tops, visible to the world. He wanted to suck her until he left a claim so obvious even Jack would be impressed and Jackie would have to shut it for good.  
  
Marking Rose was wrong in so many ways he didn't even want to think about it, let alone  _why_  he was seriously thinking about doing it. Not to mention, trying to place his mark of ownership on Rose would earn him an angry Rose Tyler slap.  
  
Or would it make Rose wet and feisty?  
  
That left him pondering.  He also wondered if Rose knew she had marked him as hers the moment she'd taken his hand.  
  
The Doctor made a fire in the sink, which turned out to provide him more comfort than simple warmth; although if Rose hadn't been watching, he could've adjusted himself much better. When he climbed back up, he pulled Rose to him and moulded his body against the back of hers, spooning her with all but the part of him he was finding it impossible to control.  He covered their torsos with his jacket. "Let me know if you get too hot, and try not to move much," he told her. Rose didn't have to move much, just enough to shimmy down her denims. He'd do the rest, until she felt the need to scream his name.  
  
If he took her from behind, Rose decided, the first thing she'd do was twist her head to reach his long, beautiful, suckable throat and leave her mark where everyone could see. She gave herself two minutes to explore that fantasy, melting into the Doctor's warmth, but lost her train of thought when his knee jerked up between her thighs. Instinctively her hips tipped, her back arched, and her legs reached back for his.  
  
"Sorry," a hoarse whisper.  "Got a cramp."  The Doctor's knee fumbled between them and then disappeared.  
  
Rose shrugged  _no problem,_ and caught herself before she could laugh (or cry?) at the literally painful flippin' irony.  The grizzly was still out there, a stubborn, intermittently obstreperous (though apparently now bored into exhaustion) big, black, lumpy shadow in front of the door. Rose knew it was the smell of her arousal that held the bear there, just like the pamphlet said, but the barricaded door would keep her out.  The Doctor might as well have been on the other side of the door with the grizzly; the barricade between Rose and him was just as sure and solid as the door and as impossible for Rose to move away as the boulder. His arms were around her, yeah, his body wrapped around her too, but nothing more; and now that she'd seen that he was compatible, she wanted…  _everything_  from him. She felt his leg twitch against her bum and imagined the rasping of rough denim against her silk knickers and the Doctor's fingers on her skin. Oh. Yeah.  If only he'd take her from behind.  
  
"Another cramp, Doctor? I can massage… it." Rose almost faltered, breathless and  _so_  aroused.  The Doctor's body jerked against her, then with an inarticulate grunt he pulled completely away. "Doctor?"  
  
"Better just to let it be, Rose; it'll sort itself out on its own." The Doctor squeezed Rose's upper arm.  "I don't know why the grizzly's sticking around," he lied, "we've got nothing she can smell to draw her and keep her here."  
  
He knew he'd better stop thinking about… what he was thinking about. With all the bear was scenting, it wouldn't surprise him if she totally lost it and rammed right through the door… burst.  Surged. Thrust. Cram. Shatter. His leg cramped again; his knee prodded Rose's thighs, again, hard enough to nudge them apart, and wedge between.  The Doctor honestly hadn't done it on purpose, but he didn't pull back immediately. In fact, he moved close again. Rose was swollen and hot; he could feel it.  If he took her from behind…

  
  
~~

  
  
"Doctor, you said the grizzly would get bored and leave, but it's been hours. She's a bad mum, a very bad mum. Where's Jack?  Why isn't he frantic and finding us already?"  
  
"Rose, calm down."  
  
"I can't! I'm cold and hungry and… and, well…"  
  
The Doctor chuckled.  "Want me to lower you and close my eyes?"  
  
"How come you, I mean don't you ever…" broke off with a self-conscious laugh.  
  
"Last time I checked to see if the bear was still there, I took a shot at her through the window, as it were."  
  
"Through the no-see um window mesh?!"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"You blokes got it so easy!  Ok, lower me down… but stick your fingers in your ears and hum while I… ya know…. And don't you DARE peek."

  
~~

  
  
"… lah-lah-lalah…. lah-lah.. lalalala…"  
  
"Dammit!"  
  
"What's wrong, Rose?"  
  
"I dropped the pack of towelettes."  
  
"Where?" He asked, with as straight a face as he could muster.  
  
"Where'dya think?"  
  
When the Doctor pulled Rose back up, he was still smiling, just a bit.  
  
Rose looked down at their clasped hands. "Doctor, what did you use after you shot the bear?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"After you wizzed out the window, how did you clean your hands?"  
  
The Doctor chuckled "Oi, do you really think I'd do something like shoot out a window?  Me? Last of the Time Lords 'n all, shooting through a patch of no-see-um?"  
  
"I figured it was just another one of the impressive things you do."  
  
"Rose Tyler, you honestly can picture me doing something like that?!"  
  
"Doctor, I can picture it all very clearly."  
  
But not just that.  
  
For hours she'd been picturing the Doctor's gorgeous penis with her fingers wrapped around it, strokin' the velvet skin, him growin' hard and thick and hot for her. Been picturin' his fingers too… his long, cool, wonderful fingers.  She'd pictured them teasin' her nipples until the pleasure was so intense it hurt, mouldin' and caressin' her breasts; pictured them wrapped into her hair, holdin' her so her lips were against his, their mouths open and tongues explorin'.  She'd pictured him moanin' her name on hot, eager breaths, makin' her shiver, his hands and mouth makin' her knees go weak.  His fingertips would move down her spine like raindrops, over her bum and the backs of her thighs. Her fingers caress his gorgeous bum, and she's tremblin' against him, gaspin' and moanin'.  There's a sudden coolness on her hot skin as his hands part her, and then he's right there.  _Rose_ , he says softly,  _my darling, only Rose_ , and his breath hitches a bit. He's gentle at first, then an insanity of want takes him and he loses control… he holds her hips so tight his fingers leave marks and she doesn't care, she wants them.  He's rammin' himself into her, over an' over, fast… hard… deep…so good, so hard …  
  
The Doctor had seen Rose's focus wander off and her mind follow after, leaving behind a secretive, open-mouthed little smile that screamed for him to stick his tongue inside… and a deep, glowing flush to her skin that made it a battle for him not to follow through.  He wondered if the rest of Rose's body was flushed, sighted the closest vertical plane he could put her against, and imagined the fantastic burst of heat he could give her…over and over.  He'd press her back against the support and kneel before her.  She'd tremble and caress him with her delicate fingers, whisper tremulous encouragements, then writhe and sob as he devoured her, needing the beam to hold her up, needing him not to stop. She'd scream his name and shatter, then she would cry that she needed him inside her, needed him now. He'd shed his clothes and stand naked before her for her judgment, and she'd look at him with bright eyes and a hungry smile.  She'd drop to her knees. Her nails would rake his bum and thighs, exquisite torture as she pulled him forward. Then she would take him, so deep he'd forget to breathe and so tight he'd see stars.  
  
Someone grunted.  
  
It wasn't the grizzly.  
  
Rose's eyes refocused to a forged steel stare—aflame, blistering, hard and excruciatingly intense. It was unfamiliar to her, alien.  It made her blood pound in her throat and she thought her clitoris might explode. She shook it off, best she could. "There's no way we can make a run for it in the dark, with the grizzly outside. Guess we're here for the night."  
  
"Rose, I promise you that the bear can't get inside; the building was built to withstand an attack like this.  Do you believe me?"  
  
"Of course." Rose chuckled. "Not even the assembled hordes of Genghis Kahn."  
  
"Rose, what I said before… I was teasing. I didn't shoot out the window. But I don't want you to waste what's left of our time here worrying about my hygiene."  
  
The Doctor pulled a pack of wipes from a pocket, cleaned his hands thoroughly. He cleaned Rose's hands again for good measure but didn't let them go when he finished. He smiled down at Rose, inviting her to fall into the naked passion he'd let her see in his eyes.  "Rose Tyler, I think it's time we stop pretending we're not driving ourselves and each other crazy with want."  
  
"And the poor grizzly."  
  
He laughed. "And the poor grizzly."  He kissed one of Rose's palms then the other, then he turned her hands over and started to kiss her knuckles.  
  
But Rose dragged her hands out of his grip and launched her lips at his. Her fingers rushed blissfully through his hair, scratching over his scalp, to the nape of his neck.  She kneaded his shoulders, digging her fingertips into his flesh, grabbed him by the ears and secured his face to hers.  
  
Their mouths were crazy on each other. Their hands were crazy on each other, racing recklessly. Zippers and buttons undone, layers of clothing pushed out of the way. The Doctor's hands cupped Rose's buttocks and she fastened her legs around his waist. In one confident motion he dropped to his knees, pressed Rose into the beam and himself inside her.  
  
Outside, the grizzly started complaining again. Ignoring all the warnings in all the pamphlete, the Doctor and Rose Tyler paid her sod all attention. _It_ was happening, and if the bear wouldn't bugger off then she'd just have to deal with the consequences.

  
~~

  
  
An eagle's scream woke the Canadian wilderness and the Doctor.  He stretched carefully, checked that his jumper and jacket were still covering Rose. He dropped a light kiss on the top of her head as he considered whether he should stoke the embers of the fire in the sink. A long, smooth, warm leg that had been draped loosely between his legs most of the night, slipped out and tightened around his thigh, pulling their bodies together. Warm fingers and soft lips began to make love with easy assurance to his jaw, his throat, his collarbone and chest, started lower. Rose, he felt pretty certain, was also awake.  
  
Grizzly bear prints, faint in the softening ice, encircled the outhouse and went  _thataway,_ telling part of a future backcountry campfire tale. The rest of the story was left to a shaggy, stained, fake bearskin blanket that lay in a heap in front of the door, forgotten by a man who'd hurried off with a pressing need to relieve himself and then an even more pressing need to flee.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:  
> 


End file.
